


never trust the night air

by serenfire



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenfire/pseuds/serenfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Central City's singularity, Hartley’s on the run.</p><p>Leonard Snart is also on the run, and he has a motorcycle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never trust the night air

**Author's Note:**

> I have been way too busy for this to happen, but it did, so that's that. 
> 
> Not entirely sure where all the imagery came from.
> 
> @anyone I know irl: do not read thanks

Hartley’s halfway through his last pack of Marlboro’s when Leonard Snart finishes his pay-phone call and returns to his motorcycle.

He stops short of the glorified moped, fingers curling under parka down, drawing Hartley’s gaze to his hidden weapons. “The fuck are _you_ doing here?” he growls.

Hartley blows smoke rings up into the midnight air, glassy with stars and the smell of the highway. “Looking for you.”

“Well, you found me.” Leonard makes no move to reveal his weapon, and his cards in play remain hidden.

Hartley has no cards left in the game. He folded several rounds ago and is now in serious debt and on the run from the house, if the poker metaphor is to be extended.

His belly cramps — from fear, and stress, and hunger.

“I’m not sure if you recognize me—” Hartley begins.

“I know who you are.”

Hartley is lounging on the seat of the motorcycle, feet propped up on the handlebars and head rested on the bag strapped to the back. He’s kind of proud of his balance at the moment, as well as being very aware of the connotations associated with splaying himself over the vehicle.

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Well, excuse me if I think you’re bluffing. We’ve never met before.”

“You’re the Rathaway no one talks about. No one’s heard anything from you in a while, but you broke out of STAR Labs?”

“And you, for some reason, were never trapped in it in the first place.”

“Are you here to leech off my secret alliance with the Flash? Well, _excuse me_ if I don’t believe you,” Len spits back Hartley’s own words at him.

With some difficulty, Hartley detangles himself from the motorcycle dashboard and stands. He’s not as tall as Leonard, which is more disappointing than he thought it would be.

“I’m good on the Flash front. It’s events like Central City’s singularity that worry me. Things like that are better handled in a group, like your Rogues.”

“If you’ve heard about my Rogues, then you know we’re not exactly the inviting type.”

“Sure, but word on the street is that you split, and you’ve confirmed it by getting the fuck out of dodge while you still can. And if the infamous Rogues have gone, well, _rogue_ , then what’s the hope for the rest of us just trying to get by in Central? We’re not going to make it.”

“What do you _want_ from me, Rathaway?” Leonard growls, and reveals a small handgun in his grasp, pointed at the cement road.

“I want to travel with you.”

“And why would I _ever_ accept that generous offer?” Leonard says.

Hartley pats Leonard’s bag of belongings. “You’ve got how much cash in here? A thousand in tens? Don’t worry, I didn’t bother taking any of it. It will be gone soon enough. How much more cash can you hustle? How much can you steal before they lock you up for good? Not enough to run, I bet. Your famed Cold Gun isn’t effective against the world, Leonard Snart.

“I’m in the same situation. I mess with the Hertz of everything, and there’s no future in that. I’m the Rathaway no one talks about, but they’ve all seen the phone recording of my revenge on my parents. Which was a ploy, because life is _so fucking complicated_ , but now I have a second chance.”

“I’m not helping you take revenge on your parents, kid.”

“Who says I even _want_ to anymore?” Hartley brings the cigarette up to his lips.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Leonard says.

Hartley chuckles, and nods at Leonard’s gun. “I’m counting on it, actually. I’m also counting on going with you on the aimless trip that is you running away from your home. I’ve done it before. Two people are always better in heists than one.”

“And you won’t just murder me in my sleep? I don’t trust anyone, especially not a wild card such as yourself.” Leonard frowns at the hem of Hartley’s jeans, filled with holes and trailing thread.

Hartley spreads his arms, the wind-chilled fabric of his jacket crackling. “I don’t have a weapon on me, and does it _really_ look like I could strangle you?”

“What’s there stopping me from killing you, then?”

“My tech,” Hartley grins. “You want to steal something without flipping the alarm, without leaving bodies? You want to _get away_ with crimes without a metahuman picking up your trail? Someone’s got to have your back, and to share in the cash. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be me, especially if it isn’t going to be your sister.”

Leonard pauses, shifting his weight from foot to foot as the wind picked up speed, whistling through the pay-phone and shaking the motorcycle’s hull. Hartley just smokes through it, the embers of his cigarette sparkling. Waiting.

Finally, Leonard speaks. “We’re not stealing everything we wander across, and if you try and preform a heist without my say-so, you’re out.”

Hartley grins. “Sure. It’s only common sense. The more carelessly you rob a place, the higher the chance that you’ll be caught. I can _hack_ , Leonard. We won’t be caught.”

Leonard stashes his handgun beneath his parka, and swings his leg over the motorcycle. The hunk of shiny junk turns on with a delicious purr, shattering the tense night air.

“We’re not stopping until we find a room with sheets that aren’t moth-infested,” Leonard tells him as Hartley slides on the bike behind him, curling his arms around the older man’s parka.

“Accustomed to living in comfort, Leonard?” Oh, this was going to be _fun_. He chuckles, the ache in his stomach fading. Against all odds, he did it, and he won’t be traveling alone.

“It’s all because of you, Rathaway, I’ve seen the mansion your parents live in. And call me Len.”

“Please. I’ve been out on the streets longer than you’ve been out of Iron Heights, _Len_.” Hartley tests the name on his lips. It sounds _homey_.

Len adds, “And we’re getting two beds.”

Hartley laughs aloud at this, smoke rising into the night air. “Oh, but honestly, do you think we’ll need it?”

Len doesn’t dignify his snark with an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and maybe want to check in to see if I'm going to continue this any time soon, follow my [tumblr](http://tylerjosephstoast.tumblr.com/).


End file.
